Reverting Back to Toddlerhood

I feel like the last couple of weeks could be summed up the same way a toddler's life could-crying, whining, hair-pulling, and an unbelievable need for naps and sugar.  Shall I explain?

My husband and I took the dogs for a walk this past week.  It wasn't super long, nor was it super hot outside.  After stopping into Dollar General to grab a card, I succumbed to the pressure to buy some Cheetos in order to "bribe" the dogs to be less disobedient on our walk home.  All that happened instead was that my fingers were now slobbery and orange, I ended up with a significant leash burn, and my frustration level had peaked.  I sternly told Travis, "We are going to sit down in the park when we get to it."  He asked me if I was frustrated (he's super observant), but then lovingly began to walk both dogs as I walked ahead of the cat parade.  I started crying.  Not just a tear or two in frustration, but the kind of cry where my chin quivers.  When he recognized something was going on, Travis asked, "Did I make you mad?"  I really am so thankful for a husband that is sensitive to my emotions.  I told him no...and that as soon as I could gain my composure, I would share with him what was going on.  

Jumping back to my comparison to being a toddler-a child probably would not articulate what I told my loving husband, but the fact that I was sobbing due to frustration with cheesy Cheetos hands does say something...  In fact, had I not been called into the local police for doing bath salts, I may have thrown myself on the ground in an utter tantrum.

When I finally got to the point where my emotional roller coaster was coming to a plateau, I simply told Travis, "How are we supposed to raise a child when we can't even get dogs to walk on a leash?"  He was sympathetic (he knew he was probably in danger of being smacked if he disagreed in any way), and we completed our walk.  It wasn't until the end of the walk that I realized he had worked doing a shingled roof that day, and his fingers were very sore from the texture he had dealt with on the shingles.  What a guy!!

We had some bread to be used up, along with some pizza-type toppings, so I decided to pull out the sandwich maker for those pizza-like sandwiches.  Pulling his dinner out, I realized that I had added too much sauce, which had sogged out the bread in those areas where it pinched the two sides together, and had essentially burnt these edges to the maker.

Travis took a bite and all I could hear was loud crunching.  I asked him if he was eating gravel, my mood a bit lifted with the prospect of food in front of me.  He smiled and said he was not...until his next bite, which was louder than the first.  I asked him, "Do you want me to make you another sandwich?"  He said (even with a straight face), "No, I like the taste of burnt sauce."  Somehow, the patience of Jesus had blessed my husband that day.  I again started crying at the sincerity that he was putting into my happiness, and when he asked what was wrong now, I responded that it was a good thing he liked the sandwiches burnt because there was no more bread anyway.

Ugh.  The one positive?  While toddlers sniffle and sob, it usually results in liquids coming from all orifices.  For me, I could at least clean myself up.

Not to be too mushy, but here is one more thing I love about my husband.  The picture below shows what looks like a heap of a mess.  In reality, it is a devil's food cake cupcake plastered in homemade German Chocolate frosting.  When I saw the recipe on pinterest, I was immediately interested in making it (even though my bedtime was approaching at 8 PM).  When I asked Travis if he would be interested, he showed obvious enthusiasm.  That guy is the coconut and pecan to my German Chocolate frosting.

The other thing my dear husband did?  He agreed that the current harness system was not working for our overly bossy dogs.  So, we went to a pet store and purchased a new system.  While Bianca doesn't seem all that thrilled about it, I think it may be partially the vulnerability she felt at that moment while her sister runs towards her (unharnessed).

The last comment about my attitude at 25 weeks?  I want to pull the next woman's hair who implies that I look large.  While I understand the intent is not necessarily to be malicious, referring to my stomach in terms of basketballs, "very" anything, or anything that follows "wow" will not be taken as a compliment.  In fact, I may even start scratching and biting if this is the pattern that I will have to endure for the next three months.  Just for the record...I have gained very little weight, but it just so happens that the front of my belly has suffered the blow.  I believe that I have a sweet baby girl inside who needs a little room, as she appreciates frosting as much as her mama...and Lord knows that ever-pleasing Travis wouldn't want to deprive either of us of such luxuries (for his sake or ours).